Serpent's Tears (Snakesblood Saga Book 2)

by Beth Alvarez

  Kifel eyed the old woman as he dropped his pen back into the inkwell. “How many mages are stationed near the border?”

  “Not many, Your Majesty.” Medreal shrugged. “There are few cities large enough to warrant them.”

  He nodded, settling back in his chair. “How many chapter houses sit along the border?”

  “Two, I believe. Why do you ask?”

  “Because I've never paid much mind to the affairs of mages. It's clear that was a mistake.” He laced his fingers together and gazed down at the discarded letter. “How many mages are there on Elenhiise? Where are they? How many of those who haven't yet answered my summons are on my side, and how can we tell?”

  Medreal raised a brow. “Those are questions I cannot answer, my king.”

  “Precisely.” He rubbed his temples with his thumbs. “And who can? The Masters? The Archmage?”

  “The chief of your court mages does a well enough job,” she said.

  “Not good enough.” Kifel tapped a finger against the edge of the desk. “There are a number of mages still missing.”

  “Including your son?”

  He hesitated.

  Medreal joined him at his desk. “I see.” She moved documents until she uncovered a silver teapot amid the papers. Her fingertips brushed its side to check its temperature. He'd forgotten it was there, but when she refilled his cup, the tea steamed. “Well, Majesty, another option is traveling the borderlands on your own and counting the chapter houses for yourself.”

  “I've been to the borderlands before,” Kifel said, sighing in exasperation. “At some point or another, I've visited every mage's station on my lands. There were so many of them I can't recall the number. I couldn't possibly make that trip now.”

  A heavy silence presided over the room as he watched her add sugar and cream to his cup. At last, he reached for the tea and spoke again. “I gave her everything she asked. How could she turn my own mages against me?”

  Medreal idly turned the teapot's lid to line up the engraved pattern. “Not all the mages are against you, my liege.”

  “I know.” He smiled, not an ounce of mirth in the expression. “That's why the city is full of them.”

  “Do you regret the decision to grant them sanctuary?”

  Did he? Kifel watched the cream swirl and settle in his cup. “No. I just wish I was certain that all the mages in my lands were loyal. Until the rest respond to my summons and swear themselves to me or else defect to join Envesi, I can't trust any correspondence that comes in.” He drained his cup in a few swallows as he pushed himself up from his desk.

  Medreal pursed her lips, a look of displeasure he'd learned to recognize long ago. “Will you be taking leave for the afternoon, sire?”

  “Perhaps longer.” He brushed wrinkles out of his coat and deposited his empty cup in her hand. “I intend to have several mages accompany the handful of men I'm sending to investigate the situation at the border. I will select them myself.” He took his sword from beside the desk and strapped it at his hip.

  She bowed her head in understanding and stepped aside.

  No matter how unsure he was about the loyalties of the mages in the capital, Kifel was glad their headquarters was near the palace. It made them easy to monitor. The proximity of their chapter house meant Temar and the other court mages could sense the Masters as they came and went. They continually left new reports on Kifel's desk, notifying him that new groups of mages had arrived. So far, every Master who had reported to the chapter house had appeared before him and sworn allegiance. He hoped that would remain the case.

  Kifel walked the halls of his palace in solitude, but two guards took up his flank as he crossed the courtyard. He didn't like taking them, but he wasn't certain he liked the idea of going alone. It was strange how quickly things had changed, how fast he'd become uncomfortable with the mages after so many years of walking freely in the temple's gardens.

  The chapter house had no need for guards, its doors open to the breeze. The front room was something like a parlor, filled with couches and small tables. A single desk sat near the entrance, the young woman behind it scrawling something in a book. A receptionist seemed unnecessary, but if there were still mages filtering in from other chapter houses, he could understand the desire to have someone present to greet them.

  The woman glanced up, startled by their appearance in the doorway. She leaped to her feet and smoothed her blue mageling's robes. “Your Majesty! I—I beg your pardon, had we known you were coming, there would have been a Master at the door to—”

  “No need,” Kifel interrupted with a wave of his hand. “Just direct me to Master Anaide.”

  She winced. “Master Anaide is indisposed, arranging travel accommodations for a number of mages traveling from Wethertree.”

  His jaw tightened. It seemed Envesi wasn't the only mage who had grown inconsiderate of his rank. Anger simmered inside him, but he tamped it down. Establishing control over the mages in Ilmenhith was important, yet everything had to be managed with a gentle hand. Who knew what would drive them back to Envesi's flock? “I see.”

  The mageling averted her eyes. “Master Edagan is present, if you would like to speak with her in the meantime? Her office is at the far end of the hall, on the left.”

  “Of course.” The words came out sharper than he meant, but Kifel didn't wait for the mageling to react before he delved deeper into the chapter house.

  Most of the doors in the hallway were closed, but the door to Edagan's office stood wide open. The white-haired and sour-faced mage sat at her desk, sorting through piles of paper. He stepped inside and his men posted themselves on either side of the door.

  “Ah, my liege. King or not, I would prefer if you knocked.” Edagan never looked up from the papers in her hands. “I don't imagine you've come to discuss what we were able to retrieve from Kirban's abandoned storerooms. How may I assist you, Majesty?”

  Kifel raised a brow. The woman had a brusque way of speaking, he was used to that. She knew her place well enough and had never challenged him, but he had grown tired of the casual manner the Master mages had begun to take with him. Still, he set the thought aside for later. When he corrected them, it would be before his council. A scolding before Ilmenhith's elite would sting more than a private reprimand. “A mageling just brought news from the borderlands. The letter she carried requested support, so mages could investigate reports of trespassers in my territories.”

  “Ah, Anaide sent a messenger already, did she?” Edagan set the papers aside and gave him her full attention. “I apologize for requiring your involvement so soon, but with the temple now divided, we can no longer operate autonomously. We do not have the numbers or the ability to defend the border on your behalf.”

  “You defending the border was never required,” Kifel replied, bridling his annoyance. “It was also never necessary. All I asked was that you keep watch. Relythes and I have long held a quiet disagreement and have been content to keep to our own lands.”

  Edagan smiled sadly. “I'm afraid Envesi has changed that.”

  “So it would seem.” He rested a hand on the pommel of his sword and drummed his fingertips against the hilt. “Who will be carrying out this expedition?”

  The aging Master shrugged. “Your response will have been left on Anaide's desk, I'd imagine. Did you not mean for her to lead the group?”

  “She was not here to meet me, so you will be taking over.” He fixed her with a hard look. “You'll get your soldiers to support the expedition, but I will select mages from my court to accompany you for the investigation. Once the matter has been seen to, you will collect all mages from this remaining border outpost—as well as those who have not yet answered my summons—and recall them to the capital at once. They will remain within Ilmenhith. No more village outposts, no more chapter houses.”

  She half rose from her chair. “But sire! If there are no mages in villages, they—”

  “That's an order, not a request,” Kifel
snapped. “Once all mages are present here in Ilmenhith, you will scour your ranks to find those who may dissent or oppose my rule, and they will be excommunicated from your order.”

  A pained look twisted Edagan's face. “But there are so few of us left.” It was more a lament than a protest.

  “And I would rather have a handful of mages I can trust than a country full of them I cannot. Understood?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” She sank back into her chair and lowered her eyes to her desk. “It will be done.”

  “Good. When my mages come for you, you may depart.” Kifel gestured for his men to precede him into the hallway. He said nothing more to the Master mage, and she didn't try to stop him as he took his leave. The two soldiers fell in on either side of the king.

  A mageling girl stepped from an office and started when she saw them coming. She closed the door and pressed her back to the wall as they passed. Kifel spared her a sidewise glance, his emerald eyes narrowing when he recognized her. Then they moved on, and he found himself resting a hand on his sword again as Shymin's eyes followed him out.

  Vahn grimaced as another merchant sneered and turned away with a look of pure disdain. He couldn't blame the man, though the reaction grated on his nerves. The road back to Ilmenhith had been unforgiving, and he was a little worse for wear. Or perhaps that was a gentle way to put it. He was certain he looked haggard, his face smudged with dust and sweat and his clothing stained with dark spatters from the encounter more than a week before. Nothing sounded better than a good bath. His travels back to the capital had added a coat of dirt and caked mud, and the boots on his feet had given him blisters some time ago, so he walked with an uneven gait.

  The merchant seemed content to pretend Vahn wasn't there. For the most part, no one looked at him twice. He couldn't decide whether he appreciated that or not. With his shambling walk and dirty uniform, he knew how he looked; it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d dragged himself out of an alley behind the cheap taverns at the edge of town. Even the city guards, men whose names he knew well after their years of service beneath his father, nudged each other and pointed at him as if it were some grand joke. Others turned up their noses as they would if he were a drunken beggar. But beggars didn't carry the king's steel.

  Ilmenhith had grown soft. Vahn had never realized how ill-prepared the city's defenses were. But Ilmenhith didn't know struggle; the city didn't know war. In the eyes of its inhabitants, a dirty and limping cadet meant drink, not danger. He supposed it was for the best. The news he carried could not be delivered to just anyone.

  The towers looming over the palace wall were a welcome sight. Vahn hurried past the bustle of the market and into the open streets that ringed the palace. He'd gone half a dozen steps before he stopped dead in his tracks and blinked at a handful of robed figures in his path. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, almost positive he'd seen wrong.

  He had not. A woman in Master white stood beside the large building he recognized as the capital's chapter house—a sight that wasn't unusual on its own. It was the magelings in their colorful robes that filtered in and out of the building at the Master's behest that caught him off guard.

  What were they doing there? The solstice had been the first occasion in the temple's history where magelings traveled so far from the temple’s grounds. They certainly had no business in the chapter house. Only those who had graduated to the rank of Master were stationed in the cities. He turned away and gave a startled shout when he collided with a girl in a yellow robe.

  She stumbled backwards with a scowl on her face. “Careful!”

  “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—” He stopped short when he saw her face and took a half step back, unconsciously smoothing his dirty shirt. “Kytenia?”

  The mageling's brows rose. “Vahn?” Her hazel eyes darted up and down his disheveled frame. “What in the world happened to you?”

  He grimaced for what seemed like the dozenth time since entering the city. “It's a long story.”

  Kytenia folded her arms over her chest. “I imagine stories should wait until after you've bathed.”

  “Is it that bad?” he asked, looking down at himself.

  Her expression indicated it was, though she avoided answering the question. “Where are you going? Not to the palace, I hope. Not looking like that.”

  Vahn hesitated. Where was he going? The barracks would be all but empty this time of day. He didn't know where his father would be, and he wasn't sure who else he could report to. He'd want to speak to the king, of course, or at least send him a message. By now, Kifel may have heard about the unexpected brawl, but not that his son had been involved—or that he'd survived. But Vahn wasn't an officer. He barely scraped the bottom rung of the military ladder. He couldn't possibly report directly to the king. “I'm sure my commanding officer will want to speak with me.”

  “Well if that's the case, it'll probably have to wait. A huge contingent left this morning, traveling with Masters to gather the mages still scattered across the island. Each Master was to be escorted by an officer.” When he frowned, she eyed him and tilted her head. “How long have you been gone?”

  “Too long, evidently.” Why would the mages be recalled? They provided a vital service, supplying healing for both soldiers and peasants across Elenhiise. He blinked twice, suddenly reminded of the reason for Ran's ensured survival. “Firal!”

  Kytenia's eyes went wide. “What? What about her? Do you know where she is?”

  “What was she doing out of the temple? What are you doing out of the temple?” He paused and then added, “You mean you knew she was gone?”

  “She was expelled just as the lot of you were given orders to leave Kirban. I thought she'd come to Ilmenhith, but...” She glanced over her shoulder, wringing her hands until her knuckles turned white. “Why don't you come inside and clean up? If you know where she's gone, we want to talk with you.”

  Vahn breathed a sigh and his shoulders sagged. “I wouldn't refuse a bath and change of clothes.” Perhaps he could speak to one of the high-ranking Masters while there. They were privy to Ran's circumstances, and surely they would pass word to the king. Besides, he hadn't yet worked through what he would say to the officers when he did report. While he was certain the rest of his unit had continued on to the chapter house they'd been ordered to visit, Vahn did not know when the officers in Ilmenhith would receive word he had deserted the group—if they hadn't already. His father's reputation would allow him to unravel a good deal of the damage, but addressing his father was another concern.

  “Good. This way.” Kytenia jerked her head toward the door and led the way. She paused to say something to the Master at the entrance, her voice just low enough that he couldn't hear. The two women looked back at him before the Master nodded and motioned them inside. Vahn gave the Master a respectful half-bow before following Kytenia's lead.

  He'd been inside the chapter house several times to deliver messages before he'd gained a real place in the military. He saw a few faces he recognized from those days. They eyed him strangely, but he inclined his head in greeting anyway. No one looked particularly happy, though if the Masters really were recalling all mages to Ilmenhith, he understood why.

  Kytenia led him up a flight of stairs and down a narrow hallway. They stopped in front of an unmarked door. He didn't know how the mages kept their bearings. At least in the palace, there were paintings and distinct vases that helped differentiate each hall. The chapter house was bare, sterile.

  “In here,” Kytenia said as she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

  There were no windows, but a handful of mage-lights floating near the ceiling gave the room the same bright cast one might expect from daylight. A large bronze tub stood in the center of the room, already filled with water. A shelf with towels and soaps waited against the wall. Vahn glanced over his shoulder. “Ah... Maybe before the bath, I should—”

  Kytenia snorted. “Oh, no you don't. You’re a mess, not fit to present t
o anyone.” She put her hands against the edge of the tub and a flicker of concentration crossed her face. “There. The water is warm now. You go ahead and clean yourself up. I'll have someone find a change of clothes and bring it up for you. I want to speak with you as soon as you're done.”

  “Thank you,” Vahn murmured as she brushed past him and slid out of the room, closing the door behind her. She wasn’t going to let him object, so he might as well do as he was told.

  Steam rose from the water, filling the room with stifling humidity. Being around mages wasn't new, but he never got over the odd discomfort of seeing them practice their craft. Giftless as he was, he never knew what to expect.

  Vahn waited until he was certain Kytenia wasn't returning before he undressed. His clothes were likely ruined; he didn't have much hope for getting week-old bloodstains out of his uniform. With fortune, he wouldn't be expected to pay for its replacement. Still, he folded his clothes as neatly as he could and left them on the floor beside the tub.

  His toes touched the water and he sucked in a sharp breath. It was almost too hot, but he pushed his foot down into the water anyway. Then he sank into the tub, groaning in relief as the heat seeped into his muscles. He hadn't realized how sore and tired he'd been, too driven by the need to return and report.

  As low in the ranks as he was, Vahn hadn't been privy to the reason they'd been ordered to ride for the border. The more he thought about it, the more he was certain the orders his unit carried had been orders of recall for the mages. If that task was important enough for Ilmenhith to send Masters and officers to ensure those orders were received, his unit would have continued on without sending anyone back to look for him. Convenient, he supposed, but his name would still be listed in the report of absentees sent back to the capital.

  The skirmish had become a blur. He didn't remember what he'd said or done after his friend had fallen. He thought he remembered begging—pleading for the rest of the cavalry to stop and listen—but he didn't recall what was said, or by whom. Some of Ran's group had escaped, a miracle he'd thanked Brant for a dozen times during his week of foot travel. Vahn had asked his commanding officer to let him stay, to move the dead into the outermost rings of the ruins where they would be undisturbed. The captain had ordered him to catch up when he was finished.